


A Crafty Solution

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22258543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Minerva felt she should be entitled to peace and quiet in her study. When this is denied her, she decides she must do something about it.
Kudos: 12





	A Crafty Solution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/gifts).



> Written for LJ's Hoggywartyxmas
> 
> My very grateful thanks to Okapi for being my patient, supportive and amazing beta!

It was inevitable, Minerva McGonagall felt, that part of her time as headmistress of Hogwarts would be spent dealing with the bickering of the students. All those adolescents and their hormones in one small space was bound to lead to friend forever one day being the worst friend ever the next. And then there were certain times in the month when all one could do was ensure a ready supply of chocolate was available in the girls’ dormitories.

In addition, there was the bickering between staff, which at times she felt was worse because they really were old enough to know better. And if she so much as sensed the start of another ‘battle of the looks,’ she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t turn them into frogs and tell them they wouldn’t be transformed back until Filch had kissed them.

All this was why Minerva was so annoyed when opening the door to her study, the one respite from all the arguing, she heard a row underway.

“You can’t stay here. Go back to your own frame.”

“Why don’t you go there instead?”

“I like it here.”

“Change would be good for you.”

“Leave her alone, you bully!”

“What is going on?” Minerva growled in a voice which would have frozen even a third year in their tracks.

The portraits momentarily ceased their argument before Phineas Nigellus Black complained, “I am tired of facing that pompous ass, Dumbledore.”

The bickering recommenced.

“Silence!” Minerva ordered. “Or I will send the lot of you for cleaning.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Just try me.”

Presumably the portraits believed her, and for the next half hour Minerva was able to work in blessed silence; after which, there was a knock on the door.

Minerva went to open it and admitted Irma Prince and Pomona Sprout.

Irma sighed with pleasure. “It’s so peaceful in here.”

“Hmm!” Minerva replied.

The three ladies settled into the armchairs which Minerva had introduced into her study and opened up their craft bags. Minerva was currently knitting a striped scarf.

“From the vehemence with which you’re knitting that brown stripe,” Pomona said, “I presume the minister has been giving you hassle this week.”

“The usual ‘must spend more time on the theory of spells, less on the messy practical’.”

“And we all know how helpful it is to cast a theoretical spell,” Irma agreed.

At that point they were interrupted by a furious “What is that?”

“That, Headmaster Black,” Minerva replied icily, “is cross stitch.”

“I can see she is stitching,” Black snapped. “And it’s certainly making me cross.”

Irma held up the offending article. “It’s a bookmark,” she explained. “I’m making it for a friend.”

“But it’s got his face on it.”

“Yes. She wanted something to remember her time at Hogwarts and thought Albus’ picture would be ideal.”

“What a charming idea,” Dumbledore said.

“Well, I don’t think so at all,” Black replied.

“I warned you,” Minerva said.

“You could try tea towels,” Pomona suggested. “And cover them up like you do with parrots.”

There were muttered complaints from both portraits.

“I suppose I could try it,” Minerva said thoughtfully.

The portraits wisely remained silent for a further five minutes, before, “And what’s that?”

Pomona held up the item she was working on. “It’s crochet. I’m making a set of famous Hogwarts characters for the children at St Mungo’s to play with.”

“But that’s ball shaped.”

“That’s right. Each character is in the form of a crocheted ball. The children like them.”

“I don’t want to be portrayed as a ball.”

“That’s all right,” Pomona said, smiling. “You won’t be.”

“Actually,” Minerva said, “That gives me an idea. I’ll tell you about it later, Pomona.”

The ladies continued with their craftwork without any further interruption, for which they were very grateful.

~~~~~

The next couple of weeks were relatively peaceful as far as interactions with the portraits was concerned. Being a headmistress of any school, let alone Hogwarts, was never going to be peaceful, but at least Minerva was spared the portraits’ bickering, even if she suspected it continued in her absence.

She knew it wouldn’t last, but her arrangements were nearly ready, and, exactly two weeks after the earlier altercation, Minerva entered her study carrying a large bag, which, although full, wasn’t very heavy. She placed the bag on the floor and began to rummage among its contents.

At that moment she heard, “Phineas, I know I said you could share, but you’re taking up nearly all my frame.”

Minerva continued to search in the bag before removing one of the items. “Duck, Dilys!” she ordered.

Then, with a drop kick a rugby player would have been proud of, she sent the item through the air. It hit Headmaster Black full in the face.

“What was that?” he spluttered.

Minerva held up a spherical crocheted Dumbledore.

“How, how dare you?” Black exclaimed.

A voice from the other wall said, “Much as it pains me to side with Phineas, on this occasion I do need to protest your unseemly behaviour.”

Before Black had the chance to say, “I don’t need you to stand up for me,” Minerva had selected another crocheted sphere and, with the strength of a shot putter, sent it flying at Dumbledore.

“I presume that was Phineas,” Dumbledore muttered.

“Correct. And I have plenty more.” She set the complete set of crocheted headteachers out where the portraits could see them. “I will be loath to use some of these,” she said, holding up a couple, “But rest assured I will do whatever is necessary to promote order within my study.”

“But the damage,” Dumbledore objected.

“Balls like these have been successfully used in the nursery at St Mungo’s, and as yet no harm has come to any of the children, so they are quite safe. And since none of you will be trying to chew the wool, they will remain in good condition.”

Minerva caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye and lobbed another ball accurately at Black, who had slipped into the next portrait. “Really,” she said, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you moving? I am a headmistress; I spend all day spotting the dubious behaviour of errant pupils.”

Minerva ignored the mutters and packed all the balls back into the bag, which she left strategically placed in case she needed them again.

Ten minutes later, Irma and Pomona arrived for their craft and natter session. It progressed without any interruption, apart from the occasional ostentatious snore from Black, which they ignored.


End file.
